Book Review: A Year in Van Nuys

Every week, I meet with my new friend Joleen for a cup of coffee (sometimes a sample cup of Trader Joe's coffee) to discuss the all important questions of life direction, job search status, and ideas. We've been meeting for about 2 months and I have to say, we've hit our stride.

Yesterday, she suggested that I write a book about my life living in the OC and she gave enough compelling reasons that I decided to give it some serious thought and read this other book I had seen in the bookstore for ideas: A Year in Van Nuys by Sandra Tsing Loh.

I've come to admire Sandra's writing recently for its wit and humor and ability to make me laugh a lot. J. checked out A Year in Van Nuys from the library for me and I finished it in two sittings. And here is what I have to say about this book (published in 2001).

• It's really really really funny. I laughed a lot, especially in the beginning.
• I was surprised at how much I related to her experiences. (Do L.A. freelance writers really have that much in common?)
• She is so self-deprecating and revealing! How does she still have friends?
• The ending does totally peter out and only worth skimming as many Amazon.com reviewers write.
• It is a writer's writer kind of book. It's all about her writing life and how much it sucked that year.
• It almost made me want to quit all this freelance business and study for the LSATs and be happy having stable income.
• Most importantly, it was a case study on exactly what not to do if you want to be sane and happy and be a writer.

Here's what her painful stories reinforced:

1. Get a life and get out or you will end up stuck in your bedroom for 3 years with writer's block and loathing self-pity.
2. Read the Ennegram, Type 4. Learn how to deal with envy or it will destroy you.
3. Have a regular practice of taking yourself lightly, forgiving yourself, and working on loving others.
4. Have a regular practice of centering, whether that be prayer, photography, or something else.
5. Do anything constructive to regularly get out of your head and your own thoughts.
6. Be a contemplative.
7. Be kind and serve others.
8. Live fully in the moment.
9. Do Welcoming Prayer a lot.
10. And the list could keep going on.

I wouldn't use her book as a model for a book on living in the OC but overall, a quick enjoyable read. Some parts--her agony, her self-loathing, her moans--were a bit too negative and not funny enough to bear but all the other stuff, the parts when she really is spot on, hilarious, and you actually realize this is all useful info to help you avoid the same mistakes--well, that's nice.

For the complete opposite of Sandra Tsing Loh, check out The Happiness Project. This woman has a law degree and is writing a book about being happy.

New finds

Here are some new finds that I've been loving

Yellow Owl Workshop
I am especially in love with the city rubber stamps set


Blogger: Color Me Katie
a freelance photographer, street artist, all around creativity source
Via The Happiness Project


The Uniform Project
Makes me want to get a whole lot of accessories and one uniform

Cory Doctorow: Writing in the Age of Distraction
A good article about writing when the internet is soo distracting

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

I have a friend who blogs about her practice of living inspired. I admire her constant search for inspiration and how she continues to find inspiration in unexpected places, filling her life with wonder and new possibilities.

Last week, an email exchange with her reminded me of her valued search for inspiration and I began to think about what inspires me. If you're not used to thinking in those terms, it's a little hard to get there. It takes some warming up and I drew a blank.

Spivak inspired me last week although it's still a swirling mass of challenging and intriguing ideas around my head. Did baking an amazing zucchini orange marmalade bread from the Tartine cookbook count as inspiration? Maybe.

But today, I finally finished What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (Vintage International) by Haruki Murakami and when I had read the last page and closed the book with satisfaction, I said emphatically, "Aha! This book inspires me!"

It's interesting, you know. From reading the book, I didn't feel like I should pick up running or even write a book. Murakami wrote this book as a memoir of sorts, a quest to find out for himself what his personal standard has been as a runner and writer. He chronicles how he first started writing, first started running, and how those two shaped each other and his life's perspective.

Towards the end of the book, Murakami writes about becoming a better swimmer for triathlon competitions. He finds a coach who strips his form down and teaches him one thing at a time. At first, it is "awful and awkward" and he can't understand how learning to swim (for ex.) flat as a board without rotation is going to help him. Next, his coach introduces rotating his left shoulder only and makes him swim up and down the pool doing only that. And so on ad tedium until one day, everything clicks. Every part of his body is moving as it should. His old habits have been broken, his old form is no more, a new form has emerged, a synchronization of all the new parts. Revelation!

Murakami's experience reminded me of learning to play the piano. I started piano lessons when I was four years old and ended in college. For a time in my youth, my parents were convinced that I was going to become a concert pianist and I would practice for 2-3 hours and could only leave the bench to go to the bathroom. Since then, my fingers have become stiff and I am nowhere near the kind of fluid alacrity I had on the keys. But I remember the drills and the experience of revelation. I remember the scales, the arpeggios, my worn out Czerny book. I remember how good it felt when I conquered a scale and my fingers flew over something that had troubled me a few weeks before. I remember how my teacher and I would break down a piece and how I would practice each trill, each measure over and over again until it was flawless and everything came together. I had no false illusions about becoming a world class pianist overnight. I knew it would take hours of practice, dedication, and years of devotion.

Similarly, I feel the same way about printing and book arts. I have no illusions of becoming a letterpress printer over night. Slowly but surely through my classes, I have gained a vocabulary and dexterity with my movements that have helped me become more and more proficient at designing, setting type, and printing correctly.

Why is it then that I never applied this to the art of writing? Maybe it's because it's so foreign (unprofitable, impractical?) and language around it so pretentious and lofty. How many times have I read or heard, "writing cannot be taught"? The idea is that talent for writing is innate and either you have it or you don't. Everyday, I sit in front of my laptop or notebook (or worse, think about sitting in front of my laptop or notebook) and wonder about how to do what I want so much to do i.e. write the damn novel. The writer's life feels shrouded in mystery and fantasy, an inacessible dream. Or in other word(s), bullshit.

Murakami's memoir shows me that writing, like any other craft and skill, is about the process of doing things over and over again, mastering each small thing, taking each step towards the finish line, getting a coach, doing whatever it is to keep on the journey of living the way your heart takes you and learning to do it with the pain of Reality. And when you finish something, you get up and do it again or find something new to challenge yourself, to keep learning about yourself, to keep being healthy. The learning and growing never ends.

After reading the book, I didn't feel like I should pick up running or even write a book. I felt and thought these things:
1. I need to do writing drills like I used to do piano drills.
2. I need training: a good coach, exercises, a space and structure for practice.
3. When I sit down to write, I cannot sit down to write a book. I sit down to write a word, a sentence, and to grow and learn.

Inspiring.

Thanks mom and dad for all those years of piano lessons. And thanks Liz for the inspiration to live inspired.